


Icarus: Left Behind

by lonelybastard



Series: Snippets of Pain [3]
Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Broken Families, Child Neglect, Emotional Manipulation, Family Issues, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Regret, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Unintentional, Unreliable Narrator, maybe slight comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29456730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelybastard/pseuds/lonelybastard
Summary: He should have known. It was obvious, but he let himself get caught up in it, the feeling of being wanted, having a family that loved him.Really, this was on him.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Tubbo & Tommyinnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Snippets of Pain [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157714
Kudos: 53





	Icarus: Left Behind

He should have known. It was obvious, but he let himself get caught up in it, the feeling of being wanted, having a family that loved him. 

Really, this was on him. 

Tommy watched as Phil and Technoblade passed through what was left of L’manberg, of Wilbur’s last creation. He watched as they offered a home to Ranboo, who gladly accepted with a wide smile. He watched as he was left behind in the rubble, with only a dead ghost to comfort him. 

\---

A few weeks had passed since then. Tommy had reconciled with Tubbo, fought Dream and won, subsequently imprisoned the bastard, and finally felt free.

He didn’t stop to think who was missing from the crowd that day, until he did.

Phil and Technoblade.

They were too busy off adventuring with the boy they had replaced him with, too busy to realize he nearly died that day, both physically and mentally. It was expected though, the two had teamed up with _that_ bastard in the first place, ignorant to the suffering he had put Tommy through when he was all alone in exile. Hell, the shit he had gone through since the day he had arrived in this god-forsaken land. 

Tommy tried to remain strong, he really did. 

But eventually, he cracked. 

\---

Tommy was sitting in Tubbo’s attic, at Snowchester. It was too quiet back at his house, so he decided to visit his friend, who was currently out collecting more supplies for his nation. He sighed softly. Tubbo was always the better of the two, a young capable president that could rally all sorts of people and display compassion to even the most undeserving. Tommy thought of himself as the latter, he definitely didn’t deserve this. 

He hadn’t realized Ranboo was also there, helping Tubbo bring back some logs and iron ore. A door opened, and the intrinsic murmurs of the Enderman hybrid filled the bottom layer of the house, breaking the silence that Tommy now relished in. He listened for a while, hearing him move things around and organize the wood logs he had just brought back. A few minutes had passed, maybe ten, maybe thirty, maybe even more. There was more noise, the door opening again and bringing with it two more people. 

“Oh, there you are. Hey Ranboo.” Phil’s voice. “I came to ask if you would like to formally be my son. We can get the papers later.”

“Wow, yeah that sounds great. Huh, I guess you have four kids now. That's a lot.” 

“Four? You mean three. Wilbur, Techno, and you.”

“What about Tommy?”

There was another silence, broken by a familiar sneer he had heard the day it all went wrong.

“Tommy? He’s practically dead to us! That kid hasn't been "family" since the day he decided to betray us.” Technoblade was laughing hysterically. Phil joined him.

The young boy held a hand over his mouth, willing himself not to cry or make any noises. He didn’t want them to see him like this, broken over a family he apparently was never a part of. Who cared if Wilbur saw him as a younger brother, the man was dead, a hollow shell left in his place that would haunt him to the ends of the world. 

The door opened again. 

“Tom-oh, hello,” Tubbo was here. Now he really needed to get out. 

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Just needed to tell Ranboo something,” Phil responded, hints of laughter still on his tongue.

“Oh, okay. Do you know if Tommy’s here?” 

Someone began to talk, but he couldn’t hear anything. It felt like everything was ringing, like the bell he hit over and over again, the vibrations in his ears after countless explosions, his head after getting beat by a man in white mask. Ringing, ringing, ringing. It just wouldn’t stop.

He jumped down the ladder, uneasy on his feet. Tommy held his hands to his ears in a daze, startling most of the people huddled around the door as he headed towards it. 

_“Tommy? Tommy!”_ He could barely hear anything, it was all muffled. 

Tommy pushed past the group, his lips pressed together in an effort not to cry and hands still covering his ears. There was a hand on his shoulder, trying to stop him. He lurched backwards, his heart pounding and head still ringing. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat, looking at the man he once would have called his father, at the man he thought of as his brother. 

The frigid wind was a blessing. He kept walking, his face numb and eyes wet. Distantly, an argument started, but he still couldn’t hear. 

Really, he knew he wasn’t loved, no matter what they said. Everyone saw him as the annoying kid, who only caused problems and hurt those in his way. He was a burden, someone to be pushed away and blamed. 

It was a mistake when he felt the cold water grab at him. Tommy panicked only for a second, before relaxing and seeing the world that was now above him. The sun was setting, a gorgeous burnt orange filling his gaze. A melody played in his head, steadily replacing the discordant noises as he began to look back, thinking about where it stopped being fun, where it started to bleed and held a knife to his throat instead.

Was it the day he was born? The day he was abandoned by the road as a small toddler, staring blankly at a brunette teenager in a yellow sweater? The fact that he never cried, even then? Or was it when he watched that man destroy himself, twisted into something he couldn’t recognize, screaming about symphonies and an end to all ends? Maybe it truly started when he sat on top of that tower, staring at the sea that always seemed to lure him, waking up staring at blue. Surely it must have been when a god screamed at him, proclaiming that he was a human too as he burnt the skies with hails of monsters. Or when another god taunted him, staring down at the boy he hurt, a heavy boot holding down another boy who struggled to survive. 

It wasn’t like it mattered anyways, the sun had set and blue encased him everywhere.

This was it, his symphony was coming to an end. 

\---

_Tommy._

_\---_

_Tommy._

\---

“Tommy!”

He gasped, as hands left his chest and he heaved out cold liquid, his lungs burning and his head splintering into a thousand little pieces. 

A figure stood over him as he came to. It was cold, the wind biting at his wet body and the ice beneath chilling him further.

Someone snapped their fingers, and Tommy looked up.

“Wilbur?” A man with long brown hair and a yellow sweater stood over him, his own chest heaving with the exertion needed to bring back a life. _His_ life. 

Wilbur smiled, though it was sad, and hugged him. He was warm. It was like the sun had come back into his life, spreading through his fingertips to his toes, shoving down the blue that had been consuming him for months. The clouds were gone and it was bright.

“What? How? You...you’re alive?” Tommy gasped, out of breath from how hard he was being held and the fact that he had almost just drowned. 

He was just squeezed even tighter.

“It’s not your time to die,” Wilbur murmured, and that was all that he needed to hear, finally letting go and crying. “I won’t let you go,” he pushed the wet hair on Tommy’s forehead back, bumping his head against him, “you’re not alone.”

“You’re not an Icarus, hell, you’re not Theseus either. You’re just Tommy, my dumb, little brother.” And he believed it. Even if he burned or fell again, he'd still cling on to this small fragment of belonging. He had to, it was all he had left. 

He would hold on to the sun, even if it burned his wings from the inside-out and left him falling, spiraling down towards the unforgiving earth that would never catch him. 

He wasn't Icarus, or Theseus. He was Tommy, and he was both. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh, not sure how I feel about this piece. Also, the mythology is totally not correct but eh. Hope you enjoy anyways. Side note: Is it obvious that I love writing about Tommy and that he's my favorite CC?
> 
> Also, angst :)


End file.
